


Dirty Dishes

by Resa_Saso



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, We all know it had to be done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Saso/pseuds/Resa_Saso
Summary: Theta watched until the end, every single fork, until the last crumb of cake had been devoured and left nothing but a weirdly hollow feeling in his stomach, that he quickly identified as hunger.The second it had a name, it seemed to want to call for attention, and his stomach grumbled loudly for everyone in the coffee shop to hear.Everyone being him and the cake destroyer, as Theta had lovingly titled him, because there was no one else in the shop, except for the staff inside, chatting behind the counter.





	Dirty Dishes

**Author's Note:**

> So, this whole AU is based on a thread I read on Twitter about a woman just placing her empty plates on another person's table and getting away with it brilliantly. And my very first thought was "Koschei would totally do that to Theta" and this is the story of how this story was created.  
> Here's the thread, which is hilarious, if anyone wants to read! (It's a bit spoiler-y for the comedy of this story, but I'd feel bad to not link it, so hey, who needs to like my stories anyway, go like the thread instead! :D)
> 
> https://twitter.com/thisstuartlaws/status/1117781611515453440

Theta liked coming here. And why wouldn’t he?

It was a nice spot. When he sat down on his favourite seat, comfy, well cushioned seats they were, too, he could see right down to the river, where tourists were crossing the bridges with excitement written all over their faces, hair fluttering all around their heads from the wind, cameras almost always raised, only to sink down again at the realization that there was no screen in the world good enough to do this view justice.

He liked watching them. He loved watching people in general, loved the wind on his face, loved the fresh sea air, he loved everything about this spot.

So naturally, he suggested it for the first meeting of the book club he had recently signed up for.

He was a bit early, sure that he could use the time productively (and with cake), and he watched the people walk down the little café with a light smile.

It was a bit bad for his writing, though, because he usually ended up staring down to the river more times than he looked at his actual work. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to write – It just seemed so hard to concentrate, so hard to motivate himself to think the words and then pour them to the paper.

He came here every day, hoping for some miracle, some sudden vanishing of his writing block due to good atmosphere and even better cake.

Well. Fine. If Theta _was_ being honest, the main reason for him coming here might have been the good cake.

Today was something else though, today was not going to be a good day – Not only according to his writing, which hadn’t seen a good day in far too long, but also cake wise.

Theta watched the young man on the table next to him with a dark glare, as he ate a piece of his favourite cherry cake – the _last_ piece of cake, to be precise – with pleasure.

It was almost like he was mocking him – Though Theta was pretty sure he hadn’t even noticed him. The way he gleefully, slowly, shoved one fork full of cake after another into his mouth, closing his eyes in absolute pleasure every time he did – So theatrical, Theta would’ve blindly assumed it was all a staged event just to drive him into despair; If that wouldn’t have been a completely ridiculous thought, that was.

Theta watched until the end, every single fork, until the last crumb of cake had been devoured and left nothing but a weirdly hollow feeling in his stomach, that he quickly identified as hunger.

The second it had a name, it seemed to want to call for attention, and his stomach grumbled loudly for everyone in the coffee shop to hear.

Everyone being him and the cake destroyer, as Theta had lovingly titled him, because there was no one else in the shop, except for the staff inside, chatting behind the counter.

Grey, amused eyes flashed up to Theta in a heartbeat and he quickly averted his own eyes, trying not to look like he had just gotten caught. Boring eyes, they had been, utterly uneventful, nothing special about them at all.

They seemed to spark, of course, but everyone’s eyes would spark after such a piece of brilliant cherry cake, he was sure.

They also seemed wildly clever, slightly devious and had a beautiful colour, something between a watery grey and a steel blue.

Theta shook his head quickly, trying to go back to hate this person’s guts with all his heart – Which got a bit easier the second he heard the clanging of porcelain on his table.

He looked back to the man in surprise.

For some reason, completely unknown to everyone but himself, Theta imagined, he had started ridding himself of his own plates by placing them on _Theta’s_ table.

One by one, they wandered over to his, along with his empty cup and spoons. Theta watched with his mouth slightly ajar, unable to process what was happening for a few seconds. When he finally found back his words, all of his seat neighbour’s tableware was already standing in front of Theta.

They stared at each other, Theta perfectly stunned by so much audacity, his table neighbour looking completely serious – Not the glimpse of a smile on his perfect poker face, no trace of this being a belated April’s fool. It was as if he had just done the most normal thing one could do in a completely empty café.

Theta collected himself quickly, raised an eyebrow in utter spite, then started placing back the man’s tableware to his table as fast as he could, his hands shaking in supressed anger.

The man watched him with widened eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Theta gaped at him, unable to find the words for a few seconds. This was just completely surreal.

“You put these on my table without asking, so I put them back.”

“Well,” the young man replied, sounding like he was just explaining maths to a child that had assured him two and two make five. “I didn’t want them on _my_ table.”

And with a tranquillity that really shouldn’t be allowed, he started stapling all his dishes back onto Theta’s table. Both halfway done, they stared at each other, one in disbelief, one still utterly calm.

Theta glanced at the staff inside, hoping for support, but the two waitresses were still standing at the counter, chatting and pretending not to notice anything.

That was, until the man dropped a mug. It fell to the floor with and shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, leaving Theta stunned for a few seconds – Enough time for the idiot to actually sink back into his chair, pull out a book and pretend to be completely engrossed by it.

Theta watched with his mouth hanging wide open, still staring at him when one of the waitresses stepped reluctantly closer, attracted by the sound of the mug shattering.

“I…,” he stuttered, completely lost for words at her raised eyebrow, clearly prompting him to explain. “He… I didn’t… He just started stapling all his dishes on my table…”

To his utter horror, the young man next to him didn’t even look up from his book, just calmly turned over the page, not letting them see any sign of activity.

“And then he… broke the mug,” Theta finished lamely while silently wondering, how he could ever have ended up in a situation like this.

The waitress seemed confused.

“But he’s reading.”

“No, he just… he just got out his book right after breaking the mug!”

She casted glances at both of them, eyes moving around quickly, and he could see that she was only getting more confused by minute.

“So, this wasn’t your cup?”

“No!” Theta insisted. “See, I have my cup here!”

He pointed at the empty spot on his table, where once his cup had stood, paling slightly. Apparently, he had unintentionally put that to the neighbour’s table while giving back his annoyance’s dishes.

“Oh, for God’s sake – Will you just put down that book and tell her?”

The young man looked up from his book with an expression of mild surprise, pretending not to have heard anything that was going on. A perfect actor, Theta noticed, who slowly felt anger boiling up inside him.

“Sorry?” he asked, sounding absolutely puzzled – Theta was starting to wonder if he had practised this whole event in front of a mirror. Somehow, he wouldn’t have put it past him. “I’m just trying to have a quiet tea. I don’t need all this bother, please.”

The waitress just casted a more than doubtful look towards the gutted Theta, and then shrugged, collecting the empty dishes and cups and returning shortly after to clean up the shards of the dropped mug.

Theta didn’t take his eyes off his table neighbour, who had now gone back to reading quietly, not taking any notice of him.

What a bloody jerk.

He couldn’t believe he was getting away with this.

There had to be some way to make him pay for this. Maybe if Theta went back inside, talked to the waitress and explained calmly what had happened…

But in that moment, a few more people entered the café and for a second, Theta felt relieved when he realized, they belonged to the book club he had been waiting for – Normal people, meeting up, talking about intellectual things. Maybe people he could tell about what went down, who would laugh about what a creep this guy was and then…

He teared his eyes open in terror when the “creep” got up, smiled charmingly and joined the group of people that had just gone in.

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

He had been waiting for the book club, too.

 

 


End file.
